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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24063304">The Soldier and the Princess</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyja_eskildsen/pseuds/freyja_eskildsen'>freyja_eskildsen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure &amp; Romance, F/M, Romance, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:01:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24063304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyja_eskildsen/pseuds/freyja_eskildsen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The daughter of a Nord warrior and an Imperial noblewoman, Freyja Eskildsen had sworn an oath to her dying father that she would one day return to their homeland to live an honorable, Nord life. In an effort to honor her father's dying wish, she leaves Cyrodiil, her family, and her fiance behind and begins her venture towards honor, and hopefully, a sense of home. </p><p>Growing up hearing wondrous tales of the wild, beautiful nature of life in Skyrim, Freyja wasn't prepared for the brutal civil war she encountered, or for the first appearance of dragons in centuries. And she definitely wasn't expecting love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Hadvar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Soldier and the Princess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Chapter 1 </span>
</p><p>“Bind her. We can’t have her running off to gods knows where. Until we can send word to her family, she stays with us. She’s your responsibility for now, Hadvar.”</p><p>Freyja continued to  frown at General Tullius as the assigned legionnaire approached her with a short piece of rope. She wondered if she might have been better off withholding her family name, or using a fake one, but a brief look at the state of the men in the caravan changed her mind. Although, on second hand, she was almost willing to bet the Stormcloaks wouldn’t be willing to hold her prisoner simply to gain favor with her influential Imperial family. Almost.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” The soldier apologized softly as he looped the rope around her wrists, tying it into a firm knot. He seemed sincere enough, so Freyja refrained from snorting in response. He was big, she thought, even for a Nord. He seemed to tower over her, although his countenance wasn’t menacing at all. It was refreshing, after so many years of posturing nobles in Cyrodiil.</p><p>“It seems not even my father’s name can save me from my mother’s family. Perhaps I should have tried Hammerfell, where neither would have been recognized.” She sighed, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.</p><p>Hadvar frowned. He wasn’t familiar with the woman’s family. All he had gathered from the General was that her father had been a Nordsman, and her mother was from an important and influential family back in Cyrodiil. A family that was apparently desperately searching for their daughter.</p><p>She certainly didn’t seem concerned or repentant. She had argued with General Tullius something fierce before realizing she was sorely outnumbered. Even then she hadn’t seemed to swallow defeat easily.</p><p>Hadvar knew a Nordswoman when he saw one, and this woman was without a doubt, Nord. Gods she was small though, he mused, looking her over. But no less dangerous. She had carried both sword and shield with her, and he didn’t doubt her ability to wield them. Her movements were smooth, but careful and calculated. She reminded him  of the mountain lions that used to roam in the forest outside Riverwood. Beautiful creatures, but deadly.</p><p> “This is not the greeting a Nordswoman should have upon returning to her homeland.” The soldier said under his breath. Freyja wasn’t sure if he had meant her to hear or not, but she appreciated the thought, nonetheless.</p><p>She stayed silent as the soldier’s hands wrapped delicately around her waist before placing her carefully on the horse’s saddle, as if she weighed no more than a handful of feathers. He clearly thought she was breakable; a little doll. She reckoned the solider was merely trying to show her a kindness, but she was insulted regardless. Freyja knew she was small for a Nordswoman, but did she really seem fragile? Her mother would be thrilled. Her father would be rolling over in his grave. He hadn’t raised her weak. He hadn’t raised her helpless, either.</p><p>As the soldier settled himself behind her and hesitantly placed his arms around her waist to manage the reins, Freyja stiffened, straightening her back as much as possible to minimize contact between the two.</p><p>“You’ll be more comfortable if you lean back.”</p><p>“I’d be more comfortable if my hands weren’t strung together like a petty thief.” She retorted, raising her chin defiantly. The soldier sighed but didn’t press the matter.</p><p>She regretted her stubbornness almost immediately. It took less than a few minutes of riding for her lower back to protest the awkward angle she was fighting to maintain. Her arms and her hips were on fire from gripping the pommel so tightly in an effort to maintain a space between her and the solider behind her. If he noticed the discomfort she was in, he was polite enough to not call attention to it. Another gesture she couldn’t help but appreciate.</p><p>“Where are we headed?” She asked, more to distract herself from her pain than out of genuine curiosity. She gathered that wherever they were headed, she wouldn’t be permitted to stay for long – she’d likely be back in Cyrodiil within a fortnight. And likely married to Rexus shortly after. </p><p>“To Helgen.” He said, simply.</p><p>“I’ve never been to Helgen.”</p><p>“It’s a decent sized keep.”</p><p>When the solider didn’t elaborate, Freyja sighed. Eventually, her attention drifted to the captives in the caravan riding directly ahead of them.</p><p>“Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell. I shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>“We’re all brothers…and sisters,” the blonde Stormcloak amended when he realized Freyja was watching them, “in binds now, thief.”</p><p>“Shut up back there.” The solider driving the caravan snapped. The Stormcloak smiled ruefully.</p><p>“And what’s wrong with him, huh?” The thief asked, nodding towards the other Stormcloak, who had been gagged, and clearly beaten.</p><p>“Watch your tongue. You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” Freyja couldn’t stop her eyes from widening a bit at the revelation. She turned slightly on the saddle to look back at the soldier for confirmation. He nodded with a frown and her eyes widened further.</p><p>A bit cowed by the identities of the men in front of her, Freyja finally relaxed her hold on the pommel and shifted backward in the saddle so she could lean into the soldier behind her. He thankfully didn’t comment, simply shifted his arms more comfortably around her waist. She felt far more secure in the soldier’s arms than she would admit, even to herself.</p><p>Hadvar, for his part, wasn’t surprised when the woman finally relented, and leaned back in the saddle. He had all but felt the tension rolling off her as she struggled to maintain her stiff composure. He was, however, surprised at how comfortable she felt nestled against him. And at how badly he wanted to curl his arm around her small waist. He shook his head, hoping to clear the thoughts, and instead focused on the road ahead of them.</p><p>“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?”</p><p>“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”</p><p>“No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.” The thief surely wasn’t a Nordsman then. No true Nord would quiver so at the prospect of death. Sovngarde was an honor.</p><p>“Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?” The blonde Stormcloak questioned, although Freyja noticed his eyes continued to drift in her direction. Chin high, she tried her best to ignore his attention. It wouldn’t do for the Legionnaires to get the idea she was somehow involved with the Stormcloaks. She wasn’t sure even her mother could help her out of that.</p><p>“Why do you care?”</p><p>“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”</p><p>“Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”</p><p>“General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” A solider called out from ahead.</p><p>“Good. Let’s get this over with.”</p><p>“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.”</p><p>“Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.”</p><p>Freyja’s eyes darted to where the blonde Stormcloak was looking. Thalmor. Gods, she hated them. She had never come across a Thalmor that didn’t make her skin absolutely crawl with distrust and unease. She shivered, slightly curling into the solider behind her. He seemed surprised at her reaction, or perhaps confused, but switched the reins to one hand, and circled his other arm firmly around her waist. She gripped his arm firmly with her bound hands</p><p>“Do you know them?” He asked in a voice low enough for only her to hear, nodding ahead towards the Thalmor. He didn’t know many people that actually liked the Thalmor, but the woman had all but hidden behind him at the sight of them.</p><p>She didn’t answer immediately. She seemed to be hesitant to reply, and Hadvar wondered if she was worried about his response.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have pried.” He said, attempting to apologize for the discomfort she was in. She turned her face towards him, looking surprised at his concession.</p><p>“You weren’t. Or, it’s okay. I mean I don't… I don’t know those two specifically. I’ve just… I’ve not had pleasant encounters with the Thalmor in Cyrodiil.” She said finally, her voice lacking the fight and spirit it had earlier on. It made Hadvar feel alarmingly protective. He tightened his arm around her waist, hoping she would find it reassuring. Hopefully the small smile that spread across her face meant it had.</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear it. I suppose even a Cyrodiil princess has to face her share of adversities.”</p><p>“Princess?” She asked, perplexed. “More like prisoner.”</p><p>The solider didn’t answer, just chuckled lightly under his breath.</p><p>Disgruntled, she turned back to face the front of the procession, but kept her body resting firmly against him.</p><p>“Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?”</p><p>“You need to go inside, little cub.”</p><p>“Why? I want to watch the soldiers.”</p><p>“Inside the house. Now.”</p><p>“Yes, papa.”</p><p>Freyja watched as the young boy dragged his feet back into the house, sending his father one last pleading look before letting the door close behind him. How often had her own father had to curb her incessant curiosity?</p><p>“Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!”</p><p>Freyja watched as the other soldiers all moved to start hauling the captives out of the caravans. But when her soldier’s arm began to slide out from around her waist, she tightened her grip on his forearm, panicked.</p><p>“If you ever want to get down off this horse, princess, I’m going to need my arm.” He said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. Freyja immediately released his arm, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. </p><p>Hadvar, for his part, was highly amused, and flattered by both her initial reaction and her embarrassment. He could admit (to himself at least), that he didn’t relish having to release her and put space between them again. She was a beautiful woman.</p><p>The soldier’s hands were firm around her waist this time, as he lifted her effortlessly out of the saddle. He placed her down gently in front of him, and Freyja had to steel herself against leaning forward into him. There was something comforting about him that was hard to ignore.</p><p>“Steady.” He said, hands still firm on her waist as she found her feet again.</p><p>“No, I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” Hadvar stepped back, pulling Freyja with him as one of the prisoners went running past them.</p><p>“Archers!” Seconds layer, the man lay face-down in the dirt, two arrows protruding from his lifeless form. Freyja looked away, swallowing hard.</p><p>“Anyone else feel like running?” The captain yelled. Freyja knew the question wasn’t directed at her, but her back straightened regardless. A true Nord doesn’t run from or fear Sovngarde.</p><p>“You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, princess.” Freyja tilted her head towards the soldier beside her in recognition but didn’t comment.</p><p>“Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his kind and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”</p><p>The General was interrupted a by a loud, low… growl? Freyja’s eyes immediately flew up to the sky, scanning the horizon. There wasn’t anything there, but, she felt unease. She absentmindedly took a step forward, as though she was being pulled or beckoned. Something was…different.</p><p>She snapped back to the present moment when the soldier’s hand curled around her upper arm, tugging her lightly backwards.</p><p>“What was that?” Hadvar asked.</p><p>“It’s nothing. Carry on.”</p><p>“Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites.”</p><p>“As we command your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…”</p><p>“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with. Come on, I haven’t got all morning,” The Stormcloak muttered as he was unceremoniously shoved down to the stone block, “my ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”</p><p>Freyja flinched at the snap of the headman’s ax, but didn’t close her eyes. She prayed, for the dead man’s sake, that his ancestors would indeed guide him to Sovngarde. Rebel or no, he was clearly Nord, and had faced his death with honor, and without fear.</p><p>Again she felt the uneasy beckoning, this time stronger than before. Hadvar’s grip on her arm tightened, just as the same low growl from before washed over them.</p><p>“What in Oblivion is that?” The General called out.</p><p>“Sentries! What do you see?”</p><p>“It’s… It’s in the clouds!”</p><p>Freyja watched, frozen in horror as a horrifying dragon landed roughly on the tower in front of the executions. It... seemed almost as though it was scanning through the crowd, as thought it was looking for something, or someone. </p><p>“Dragon!” One of the Stormcloaks yelled, right as the dragon let out a terrifying roar, pushing the air forward with such force that everyone in the vicinity went flying.</p><p>The scene in front of her tumbled before her eyes as she was sent flying back, landing roughly against the stone steps of the closest home. She gasped in shock, trying to get up and make sense of the chaos in front of her all at once.</p><p>“Don’t stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety! Someone get the battle-mages out here. Now!”</p><p>“How in Oblivion do we kill this thing?”</p><p>Freyja was looking around, trying to find her soldier, still half-collapsed against the stone steps.</p><p>“Hey, kinsman. Get up!”</p><p>Freyja looked up to see the blonde Stormcloak from earlier, reaching down to her. He made quick work of the ropes around her wrists before grabbing her upper arms tightly. Her head felt cloudy, and her gaze kept drifting over to where the dragon was perched, bathing soldiers, townspeople and prisoners alike in flame.</p><p>“Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance! This way!” He said, hauling her up to her feet and pushing her urgently in front of him.</p><p>Freyja numbly raced alongside him to the nearest keep entrance. Once inside, she looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. It should have been quieter in here, but the screaming was just as loud. As her eyes and nerves settled a fraction, she realized that was because there were soldiers inside the keep screaming and writhing in pain. One of the Stormcloaks was trying to tend to them, but even Freyja could instantly see that there wasn’t anything other than the gods that could save the men now. She wasn’t sure whether it was the burning leather, or their burning skin she was smelling, but it took everything in her not to wretch right there.</p><p>“Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?” She turned as the blonde questioned the rebel leader, desperate for some clarification, some answer to the chaos around them – as they no doubt all were.</p><p>“Legends don’t burn down villages,” Ulfric said, rather stoically considering the danger they were all in, “but we need to move. Now!” They didn't need to be told twice. </p><p>“Up through the tower, let’s go!”</p><p>Again, the Stormcloak waved Freyja ahead, waiting for her to find her footing before racing after her. She didn’t bother looking back to see if Ulfric was following as well. Halfway up the tower, Freyja cried out as the stone wall in front of her suddenly burst inwards, and a large chunk of stone smashed against her side, sending her flying. The pain of the stone colliding with the side of her leg pushed stars into her vision, and Freyja watched in slow motion as she went spinning off the ledge of the stairs…</p><p>Ralof reached out and snatched the small woman right as she was surely about to plummet to a messy and painful death.</p><p>“Get back!” He called out, as a stream of fire shot straight in through the hole. They stayed frozen where they were for a few moments after the dragon had flown off, before jumping forward once again.</p><p>“See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!”</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“Go! We’ll follow when we can!” Freyja looked behind him and realized they had been separated from Ulfric and the other Stormcloaks with them. She hesitated briefly but nodded.</p><p>She jumped, and landed roughly on the top floor of the inn. Her right knee collapsed under the pressure, and she tumbled forwards, down through a gaping hole in the floor onto the main floor of the building. Coughing up soot, she tried three time to get up before finally hoisting herself up off the floor. She stumbled forward and noticed a soldier gesturing to a small boy – the same child she had seen earlier.</p><p>“Haming, you need to get over here. Now!”</p><p>Freyja watched in horror as the boy started running towards the soldier, just as the dragon landed behind him, inhaling to attack. She darted forward, half colliding with the small boy, and immediately curled around him, trying to shield him from the dragon’s flames.</p><p>“Gods…Everyone get back!” The soldier yelled, turning towards them. He ushered them back towards the crevice between the stone wall and the inn, and just as Freyja felt the heat begin to surround them, the soldier stepped behind her, shielding both her and the boy. She felt rather than heard him hiss in pain as a few flames flew over them.</p><p>“Still alive, princess?” She heard as the soldier pulled away, doing his best to shrug off the pain he was undoubtedly in. He looked relieved to see her, but her attention was on the small boy, Haming, still clutching to her in fear.</p><p>“You’re alright.” She said, crouching down closer, trying to reassure him. “Open your eyes. I promise, you’re okay now.”</p><p>After a moment, he complied, looking up at her, wide-eyed and horribly frightened. She leaned forward, gently pushing his hair back and wiping some of the soot from his face.</p><p>“Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense. Princess, you stay with them.”</p><p>“No. I’m coming with you.” Freyja argued, spinning on her heel to face the soldier. He frowned. He very much wanted to argue, but something in her expression changed his mind. </p><p>“Stay close to me if you want to stay alive, then.” He growled. Freyja almost smiled at his countenance.</p><p>“You have to be brave now, okay?” She said, turning to Haming.</p><p>“Brave like Hadvar?”</p><p>“Yes, brave like Hadvar.” Freyja smiled encouragingly, gently touching the boys face one last time. He nodded and squared his shoulders.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>She followed the soldier, Hadvar, dodging between and through buildings. Freyja stopped in her tracks when a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle. The state of the man reaching for her brought tears to her eyes. He was half man, half corpse – the entire left side of his body had been nearly burnt right off. She dropped to her knees immediately, gripping his hand.</p><p>“… Tell my family… I … fought bravely…” he gasped. Freyja nodded frantically, the tears falling unbidden down her cheeks as she clutched his unburnt hand tightly. He nodded before falling limply to the side. Freyja felt frozen, as though everything around her had faded away. All that remained was this grief, this horror, and this fear.</p><p>Freyja fought against the hands on her shoulders, but she was hauled up regardless.</p><p>“Come on. We’ve got to keep moving.”</p><p>But Freyja looked at the soldier, blinking slowly before her gaze drifted back down to the corpse beside them.</p><p>“Princess, it’s you and me now. I need you to stay close!” Hadvar urged, shaking her slightly in an effort to get through to her. He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him, and away from the dead man's burnt body. It took a few moments, but she finally swallowed and nodded her understanding, eyes clear once more.</p><p>She followed him wordlessly as they ran towards one of the only still-standing entrances to the keep. He stopped suddenly, and Freyja almost ran straight into his back.</p><p>“Ralof! You damned traitor! Out of my way!” Hadvar said, unsheathing his sword and stepping to the side, in front of Freyja.</p><p>“We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.”</p><p>Hadvar tensed to move forward, but Freyja quickly stepped forward, curling her hands on around his upper arm, hoping to settle him. He hesitated.</p><p>“Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.”</p><p>“You! Eskildsen! Come on, into the keep with us!” Ralof said in recognition, motioning towards Freyja. Hadvar’s arms tensed under her hands, but she stayed put, stepping instinctively closer to him.</p><p>“With me then, princess? Let’s go. We need to get inside.”</p><p>Freyja followed him to the keep entrance without looking back.</p><p> </p>
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